First Impressions
20 years after the seizure of Embassy Mount by the Badgerian Empire. . . Cecil Beechams watched the Badger delegation from a gallery in his palace. His arms were clasped behind his back. He stood still. Thinking. The badgers. . . He remembered their arrival into this land. No-one else now lived who remembered it. They had savaged the northern Hedgehogs and desecrated their lands, an entire nation brought low in the space of an hour. He still remembered the thousands of refugees that had thronged the streets below. He looked at the rooftops and towers in the city. Some of their descendants now lived in these walls he realised, with little or no knowledge of their great nation that these visitors had struck down. His thoughts went back to those times. Cecil had liked the Hedgehogs. Their leaders, for the most part, had been just and noble. The final leader however was an embarrassment to his line. At the time, Cecil had been trapped by politics. The badgers, however vile, had removed a problem for Beardonia. His nobles and magnates of that time had been jubulent at the removal of such a meddlesome little Duke. Cecil grunted, they had said that we should have thanked the Badgers! Below the Badger Procession had disappeared under the shadow of the curtain wall. They would reappear again soon as they entered through the main gate. He brought his thoughts forward to modern times. For the last decade the Badgers had been growing bolder, encroaching on his eastern borders. Scuffles had broken out, as they inevitably do, between Badger settlers and the Bears of the area. The Badgerian government had issued a ‘Declaris Fatigus’ on the area and had sent troops for ‘peacekeeping’ purposes. This had incited the native bears immensely and small scale skirmishes had erupted all over the province. Cecil sighed. It had been a lure, it was painfully obvious to anyone who could see it. His magnates had almost revolted at his decision not to do anything but he knew that if he mobilised his forces to the border there would be clashes. Captains and generals would report their forces ‘ attacked and ambushed’ with an unusual frequency, despite the two forces remaining twenty miles apart. It would have been a powderkeg, waiting for a single spark to ignite. Cecil knew he could not risk this, not if what his informants told him was true. . . ‘My king?’ A voice from the far end of the room asked. Cecil knew the owner, Thane Gregor of house Harrion. A good man, Gregor’s great Grandfather had been one of Cecil’s closest friends. Gregor had the old man’s face. ‘Yes, Gregor?’ Cecil didn’t turn, he didn’t need to. ‘Your council awaits you in the hall, the Badger delegation has entered the city.’ Beechams didn’t need Gregor to tell him that, as he watched the delegation slowly wind through the streets. ‘Tell them I shall be there shortly.’ ‘Yes, my king.’ Gregor bowed low and left the room. And now they sought peace. . .his mind continued. He had refused to rise to their bait and now they had come to figure out why. He finally turned from the window and walked back across the marble floor. The gallery was long and high, the windows dominating an entire wall. It was a journey of crossing it to the door. He left he gallery. The two honour guards stationed outside the door picked up his trail and flanked him as he made his way through the palace. He arrived within the Great Hall, the best of Beardonia was here to witness this historic moment. This was the first Badger Delegation to arrive in Beardonia since their seizure of the neutral zone 20 years ago. Cecil reckoned only a handful of his lords assembled here had actually seen a Badger. He knew a few, Rickan, Hernn and old ‘grindstone’ Caspar had been present at Embassy Mount but as for the rest. . . Cecil grunted. They’ll ask why? he thought. Why are we not simply crushing these intrusive annoyances. To a bear, Badgers did not look particularly threatening, the tallest of Badgers barely reached Beecham’s shoulders. But they had a drive and look about them, especially their leaders. Beechams remembered one he had met just after the fall of Embassy Mount, what was his name, Draven maybe? Beechams remembered the look that Draven had given him, the one that suggested that this Badger had seen far more fearsome sights than a King of the Bears snarling at him in full battleplate. Cecil walked through his assembled lords, they parted for him, lowering their heads, to a throne in the centre of the room. He sat. ‘Caspar!’ he grunted. The old bearlord sidled forward towards the king. ‘Yes, my king?’ ‘I value your view, Caspar. You were there when they stormed the mount, what do you think is their reasoning for this?’ Caspar’s brow furrowed. ‘I think that it’s a means to carve up the eastern border definitively. We have always laid claim to the area but no formal treaties have been signed. Their recent aggression could be used as a lynchpin to goad Beardonia to war or at least wrestle some territory away from us under a treaty.’ Beechams nodded, the old fool was still sharp. ‘Thank you for your opinion Caspar, you may return.’ ‘Of course my king.’ He hobbled back into line at the edge of the hall. A messenger appeared in the entranceway and hurried up to Beechams. He saluted and bowed low. ‘My King! The Badger Delegation is awaiting outside, they request your permission to enter.’ Cecil nodded, ‘Send them in!’ The messenger saluted again and left. As the messenger retreated out of the hall a thought occured to Beechams, he turned, ‘Gregor! I wish to have a word with you.’ Shortly after the messenger’s departure many black and white figures started entering the hall. Beechams saw them and put on a diplomatic smile. ‘So let us dance then’ he thought. High Bishop Sirium of the Badgerian Empire entered the Great Hall of King Cecil Beechams. The clouds overhead were replaced by immense vaulted ceilings and hundreds of torches flickering far above almost in imitation of the night sky. The scale of the hall, of the entire palace was breathtaking, almost rivaling in scale the ancient Sett halls of Verstanum. Sirium knew his entourage would be a gawp at the sight, but he did not raise his head to admire the architecture. His eyes were focused on the figure sitting within the chair, a monstrous bear who bent scale around him. The magnificence and gargantuan vastness of the hall became backdrop to the figure sitting in the chair. A crimson robe of state was draped across his shoulders. Sirium noted the walk to Cecil, its length, its cavernous nature, the echoes his feet and staff produced on the stone. All particularly designed to reduce any such visitor to a humbled state beneath the host. A man could walk in with his shoulders high and be reduced to bumbling worry as both hall and inner doubt impressed themselves upon the visitor’s mind. Sirium was no such visitor however, but would put on the appearance of the humbled. This was someone who presented the most serious threat to the Badgerian Empire, and was old enough to remember past transgressions. Cecil beechams noted his visitors with acute observation. The one with the staff was the leader of this group, this was obvious. He marched ahead of the procession, his staff knocking on the stonework, ringing through the hall. Cecil watched this badger. His head down, staring straight at the middle of the room. Almost his entire entourage have their heads up to the grand ceiling. This one’s the dangerous one, he realised. As the badger approached other details revealed themselves. His posture, although similar to others that had made the approach to the throne had remained the same throughout. Not the gradual decrease in confidence as had accompanied every other visitor to the hall. The eyes were not flickering from side to side at the lines of lords assembled but continued to focus on the centre. Cecil grinned inwardly, we shall see the measure of this Badger. The Badger reached the chair and halted, supporting his weight on his staff. Sirium bowed before the bear. He clutched his staff with both hands, pressing much of his weight upon it. Against the raw physical power of the bears surrounding him, he presented the impression of someone laughably feeble. The bear upon the throne spoke. ‘The Great Kingdom of Beardonia welcomes you, emissary!’ the bear’s voice boomed throughout the hall. ‘I am Cecil Beechams, King of Beardonia. May we know the name of our visitor?’ ‘A slight pause before ‘King’,curious,’ thought Sirium as he raised himself up his staff. ‘I am High Bishop Sirium of the Badgerian Empire.’ he suppressed his tone to conversation level. After the booming welcome of Cecil Beechams his words would only have been heard by the King and his aide beside him. ‘We seek a diplomatic solution to the troubles that plague both our nations in the Varren area.’ Sirium continued. The Varren area, Beechams noted, he uses their name for the territory, implying their claim over it. ‘As does Beardonia,’ the King replied to Sirium. ‘We seek to avoid any bloodshed or conflict between our nations.’ Sirium observed King Cecil Beechams. Something was amiss. The king scratched at the armrest of this throne, a throne of at least several hundred years old, yet no scratch-marks existed on the ancient woodwork. Relatively recent habit? Sirium doubted it. Also the royal ‘we’. Draven had made it clear on the nature of Cecil Beechams that he was very much a one bear tyrant. No we about it. Sirium decided to continue. ‘We could not agree more, relations between us have been ever so strained this past decade. I assure you that the Badgerian Empire will do all that it can to achieve peace between us.’ Again implying us as the aggressor. Beechams thought. ‘Rooms and accommodation has been prepared for you. After the reception you may retire to them if you wish’ the King replied ‘We are thankful for your hospitality, it has been a long journey.’ ‘If your entourage requires anything in particular, say so and the palace can have it sent to your rooms immediately’ The palace? A suspicion began to take hold within Sirium, I must be careful what i say in case it turns out to be false. He decided to gently prod at it. ‘Nothing for my party but I require medical supplies for three wounded bears within our entourage. They attacked my party upon travelling through to the capital. I thought it best to return them to your care.’ his hands held out in a gesture of goodwill. What’s he doing? Beechams asked himself. Why bring words of conflict here? The king’s face grimaced. Almost a snarl, his eyes narrowed on the puny Badger before him. ‘You fought bears, within the borders of Beardonia?’ His suspicion growing, Sirium pushed further, ‘Unfortunately. They came upon us on the capital road.’ he paused, as if in confrontation with himself. ‘As. . . diplomatically disastrous as this sounds, it must be said that they killed several of my party before we could restrain them. I know of no confrontation. Beechams thought. Where’s this Badger going? Does he suspect? The clawing on the throne! The distracted King’s eyes, Sirium sensed an increase in tension in the King and his aide. I may be correct he thought. ‘You attacked bears within their own country! What did you think would happen?’ the king’s teeth began to bare. If Sirium could be any lower, he would be touching the floor, ‘I assure you, your highness, that we did not wish to fight.’ Sirium directed slight emphasis on ‘we’, it produced the desired effect. That’s what he’s doing, Beechams realised, he knows! Don’t get carried away! The King of the Bears towered over the emissary, his voice began to rise, ‘A battalion of armed Badgers marching through the countryside? Did you not think you would be seen with suspicion?’ The bear didn’t know! Sirium was sure of his conviction now. Now to push the final barrier, ‘We possessed a Bear escort. But the fighting was over before they arrived, it’s as if they held back from interfering.’ he withdrew himself slightly in preparation for the expected response, he was not disappointed. The king rose from his throne. His aide began to look nervous beside him. ‘Now you accuse the bears of treachery! You make a poor ambassador for your people if you come seeking peace with accusations of distrust.’ The final blow now, thought Sirium ‘I do not distrust His highness Cecil Beechams, I’m sure that the bear escort did all they could.’ ‘Indeed they did! They were hand picked by his highness. . . ‘ the bear’s voice trailed off, aware of the error. Damn, Beechams thought. Sirium smiled and turned his gaze to the aide standing beside the King. There had been no confrontation, no injured bears, no hesitant guards. If there were, then the real King would know. Resting himself on his staff, he spoke to the aide, ‘I thank his royal highness Cecil Beechams for his trust and protection through Beardonia, without it I do not think we would have made it through as incident free as we did.’ there was a collective intake of breath from the lords present. The face of the imposter king turned to a state of shock. King Cecil Beechams looked at the Badger in front of him, at the eyes that had marked him out, and grinned. This was indeed the dangerous one. ‘Very astute of you, well played.’ The bear in the throne knelt down low before the aide ‘I. . . sorry my king!’ Beechams waved his hand, ‘No matter, Gregor. It would have been revealed at some point. I am now pleased to properly make your acquaintance, Lord Sirium.’ He accepted the robe from a prostrating Gregor. Sirium bowed his head, ‘And you , your highness’ The true King whirled the robe over his shoulders, ‘Enough of these pointless maneuverings. We’re here to discuss peace, let us return to the gallery and talk with meaning.’ He motioned the Badger contingent to follow him. The badger obliged, half supporting himself on his staff. Beechams became aware of his lords concentrated gazes upon the Badgers. The first time they see a badger, Beechams thought. A cripple that can outwit a King. The Badgers’ intended message will not be lost on many of them.